You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. Translation: You are the master or your own universe. Whether you know it or not- you are well equipped to navigate the waters of your life. Go out and live it!
Never walk into or out of a meeting without a clear agenda
Translation: Have your shit together when you walk in and make sure you recap before you go.
Life is crazy, there are only two things you can control: attitude and effort. Make today an awesome day.
Translation: Shit happens all the time- it’s never ending. So, get over yourself. You are responsible for your own reaction to things and only you can truly make you move your ass. Try and make the best of it each day.
It requires a life of selflessness to endure others’ differing opinions while remembering their merits.
Translation: It takes much work and focus on the other person to hear what they are saying (when we think they’re wrong) and respect them as equals. Subtranslation: I think this person is a complete dumb-ass. But hey...they're right. Damn...that means I have to accept the fact that I'm really not always right. Excuse me while I go kill myself- for having failed me.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Only we can save ourselves...
So, I stopped tweeting about women taking their weaves out, opting for a more appropriate forum to air my subjective views. I don’t purport to express the opinion’s of others. This is just me having my say because I can. For women to say that Chris Rock’s movie “Good Hair” opened their eyes is really a cop out. Really? You didn’t know on some level that there was something fundamentally wrong with desperately wanting to have long flowing hair- so much so that you were willing to pay upwards of $1500.00 to have it sewn on top of your own hair? REALLY? Okay. I feel some clarification is in order here. I am speaking specifically to black women. No offense to others who may be reading and are not black women. You may sit back and continue to read the rant - or not. Actually, if you're a black woman and feel offended you may stop reading at any time. So, "or not" equally applies to you.
In my opinion- (because I wasn’t there but have read and seen enough to believe it’s true) since the time of slavery the black woman has been told (and made to feel) that she is not beautiful, that her hair is unruly, kinky, nappy and unmanageable. So what did we do? We began to hate ourselves. We began to devalue our self worth and we turned that self hatred onto each other. During slavery times our heads were covered so that ‘massah and them” wouldn’t have to contend with those beautiful, strong, black strands growing naturally from our heads. And as massah slinked down slave row snatching and grabbing what he could and would- leaving a seed trail a mile long- something new emerged…the House Niggruh. She was lighter skinned than her African mother and darker skinned then her Eurocentric father. She represented the crossroads of two very different worlds- colliding. With her fair skin and curly hair she was deemed more acceptable than the other slaves and so she was brought into the house to work.
She was easier on the eyes of massah and them and so the rift was firmly established. Our self hate, despair, desire and longing for something better (along with a large dose of envy) was transferred onto our fairer-skinned sister. Because she was light- she was treated better. Because her hair was of a different texture- she was treated better, desired more. She stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark chocolate background of her ancestors and although she may not have wanted them- the advances toward her were numerous. In the years to come she would (in some instances) pass for white; even fooling the white people around her. Being white would be her ticket to the good life. Out of this quest for a better life emerged something new… the Tragic Mulatto. Ever in limbo- never truly belonging to anything or anyone, basically hated from both sides. Hated and adored- the ultimate irony.
So what does all of this have to do with weaves and the present day hot mess we find ourselves in today (you might ask)? Well, for starters ,we are still stuck. Now more than ever we want to have the long flowing hair- the European look is what we call it now. But that’s just being politically correct. What we’re really saying is that we want our hair to be long and flowing like white women. Ooooooh! No you didn’t! Yeah…I did. And don’t think I haven’t been there. I have 12 whole credits and I’ve been through the program on that one. We’ve been bombarded with images of white women our whole lives. It was rare to see yourself on TV much less in a movie theatre when I was growing up so the long term damage is quite extensive. Everywhere you turned you were constantly reminded of how beautiful white women were. And you? Well, since you weren’t white and yours wasn’t the face you saw on TV or the big screen – you had to be the opposite; the antithesis of beauty if you will.
We had so few choices growing up. Everything was geared towards whites. Honestly? I’m amazed that we actually made it through all those years of totally being ignored, scorned (yet secretly adored). But then again that's what we did and have continued to do to this very day. We get by- we do what we have to do and we keep it moving. Be that as it may, this hair thing has really put one over on us. What I deem to be the issue of our hair and why we want it to be straight is the 800lb elephant in the room. And no one wants to actively address it. We make jokes, glazing over a mountain of unconscious self-hatred and loathing. Don't get me wrong, I’m grateful for the changes and progress we’ve made but damn...What the hell??? Somebody ought to start raising money for research. Kathy Hughes? Suzanne DePasse?? Debbie Allen? Maybe Chris Rock himself could be an anonymous financial backer. One can only hope...
Back in the day Barbie’s little sister (or was it cousin?) Skipper was as close as you could get to having a black doll. Skipper had that California tan thang going on… you know. AnyHOO… we grew up with the same mentality that our parents grew up with…If you were light skinned with “good” hair you got more. And so it goes. From that day to this many of us still believe it. We may not want to believe it, but for most of us – it’s our truth. That’s why Chris Rock’s movie hit so close to home. There were black women who were actually mad that he revealed our “secrets”. No- he didn’t reveal any secrets, he just lifted the veil and showed us our collective selves (only this time we had no choice but to look).
Yeah, we laughed, chuckled, snickered even but I know I wasn't the only black woman who left the theatre thinking..."Oh my god...I am so embarrassed by this." We looked like a bunch of desperate, lost souls just looking for the next woman with long hair to cut hers off so we could sew it onto our own heads. No matter the price. Really?? It's as if we don't give a damn about our real hair and will do anything to cover it up- never letting it see the light of day. It's little wonder that it doesn't grow the way it should. We don't take care if it and we don't love it. Have you ever known much of anything to flourish in those kinds of conditions? Right.
Now-a-days we say things like “A black woman has the right to wear her hair any way that she wants.” And to that I say “To what end?” We weave because we don’t feel beautiful unless our hair is long and flowing. It’s sad to see. Each track takes us further and further away from our authentic, beautiful selves. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had braid extensions but had never worn a weave until last year. I had one for 2 months. I good friend of mine kept encouraging me to get one and so did my hairdresser. So, I caved and got one. It was a real mistake. It was a good thing that it was curly hair instead of straight because I ended up having to cut the tracks at the base of my hairline (including my own hair) because it was too tight. It was sewn in so tight that I couldn’t rest my head on my pillow nor could I fully turn my head to the right or the left (so it hindered me while driving). I had a throbbing headache for the first 2 weeks until finally I had had quite enough. It was 3:20 am and I couldn’t stand it anymore. With tears in my eyes, I had my roommate clip the bottom track- what a relief.
I resolved myself that my own hair would grow back in time. During the remainder of the two months- the curly weave covered over a multitude of “track sins”. It was so tight that I had little bumps at the base of my neck, all in the name of having some long curly hair. It was really torture. And I don’t want to even get into not being able to thoroughly wash my hair and scalp. Double yuck. And let's just be honest- you know (if you have a weave right now) that it's been a minute since your scalp has seen the light of day. Girl you need to quit- your scalp is crying out for a good scrape. Get the gunk off your scalp girl! My head was a freaking tangled, trackie mess up under all those flowing, Indian Remy curls. Like the roots of so many banyan trees, a big, fat lie. Not to mention that some poor retched soul may have donated it to a temple. I'm grateful her blessing (and the blessings of all those other Indian women) is not dependent on what happens to the hair after it's donated at the temple. That would be tragic indeed- wouldn't you agree? They give their hair to receive a blessing. How much did you pay for yours? Hmmm...
Back to my weave ordeal...once I had it taken out, I vowed never to get another weave. It’s too high of a price to pay. My hair does not, nor has it ever been, nor will it ever be the texture of the human hair that I bought to have weaved onto my head. Again, one big, fat lie. When you look at the images of black women today- you’d be hard pressed to find one who doesn’t have a perm, a weave or both. Tackling the perm issue is definitely something we have to contend with as well. Again…we want the hair to be bone straight- no naps or beady-beads for us! The kitchen needs to be tamed, all edges super smooth. And we’re willing to slather on gobs of extremely strong chemicals to coax our precious strands into dead, lifeless, straw that easily breaks off and has curls that fall at the first sign of a hint of water. Not to mention that our lives become high jacked by our hair once it’s permed/relaxed. Whole activities are cut out of the black woman’s experience because they involve water and she is not about to get her hair wet. We do it to ouselves and to what end I ask? Honestly- we don't feel pretty unless our hair is straight and flowing, blowing in the wind. If this is the normal texture of your hair then more power to you. If it is not, maybe, just maybe, you should join the grass roots campaign to save your strands then consider some healthy hair alternatives.
After a little soul searching I decided to go natural. It wasn't really a hard decision to make. I believe the hardest part of going the natural route for most black women is getting past what all the "other" people in her life say and think about natural hair. Again...the indoctrination runs deep and counter to all things natural when it comes to hair. I kid you not, when I announced that I was even thinking about locking my hair, I was met with comments like "Why do you want to do that?" and "Oh hell no, I wouldn't do that to my hair!" "Beauty is on the inside" I retorted. And quick as a flash my aunt replied "That's right. Beauty is on the inside and pretty is on the outside and you gettin' ready to get ridda all uh yours!" We laughed until we nearly cried on that one. I have to admit I come by my wit honestly as it runs in the family.
My second sister who now has her hair locked admitted that she wore a wig during the "ugly" phase of locking her hair. My eldest sister used words like pickaninny when she described how some people looked with their hair locked. Harkening all the way back to slavery times, she unearthed the term "pickaninny" to describe showing and growing our own natural hair. It's a well know fact in the black community that you'll look more African than not when you decide to lock.
Afrocentricity has always been frowned upon in this country. It's as if black people that wear their hair in natural styles are plotting against the governent or planning some sinister act of violence or are uneducated (because why else would they wear their hair like that?). It's a shame on so many levels. I read somewhere that the first law suit involving natural hair style discrimination was back in the 80's. The eighties. Unbelievable. All I can say is thank you to the sister who had to wage that war. Thankfully we are making strides in the natural hair arena.
I recently attended the Baltimore Natural Hair Expo. It was so awesome to see so many people (men, women and children) with natural hair styles. So beautiful. So Natural. I reveled in the glory of it all- like a flower soaking up the noon day sun. Only our hair can do that- I thought. How wonderful is that? How special and unique is that? Our hair is like an endangered species that must be guarded and protected. But...only we can do it. This isn't about opening a museum to showcase Jazz- the original American art form or saving the quilts made by the women of Gee's Bend, sending them on tours around the world. This is about us preserving, protecting and showcasing our own artform. Something that is as close to us as the very breath we exhale from our bodies.
No one can do this for us...only we can save ourselves on this one. Until we can accept ourselves, we'll never be accepted and our seat at the table will remain empty. So, stop hiding behind that weave girl. Come forth and be your big, bold, beautiful self.
Be Well
In my opinion- (because I wasn’t there but have read and seen enough to believe it’s true) since the time of slavery the black woman has been told (and made to feel) that she is not beautiful, that her hair is unruly, kinky, nappy and unmanageable. So what did we do? We began to hate ourselves. We began to devalue our self worth and we turned that self hatred onto each other. During slavery times our heads were covered so that ‘massah and them” wouldn’t have to contend with those beautiful, strong, black strands growing naturally from our heads. And as massah slinked down slave row snatching and grabbing what he could and would- leaving a seed trail a mile long- something new emerged…the House Niggruh. She was lighter skinned than her African mother and darker skinned then her Eurocentric father. She represented the crossroads of two very different worlds- colliding. With her fair skin and curly hair she was deemed more acceptable than the other slaves and so she was brought into the house to work.
She was easier on the eyes of massah and them and so the rift was firmly established. Our self hate, despair, desire and longing for something better (along with a large dose of envy) was transferred onto our fairer-skinned sister. Because she was light- she was treated better. Because her hair was of a different texture- she was treated better, desired more. She stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark chocolate background of her ancestors and although she may not have wanted them- the advances toward her were numerous. In the years to come she would (in some instances) pass for white; even fooling the white people around her. Being white would be her ticket to the good life. Out of this quest for a better life emerged something new… the Tragic Mulatto. Ever in limbo- never truly belonging to anything or anyone, basically hated from both sides. Hated and adored- the ultimate irony.
So what does all of this have to do with weaves and the present day hot mess we find ourselves in today (you might ask)? Well, for starters ,we are still stuck. Now more than ever we want to have the long flowing hair- the European look is what we call it now. But that’s just being politically correct. What we’re really saying is that we want our hair to be long and flowing like white women. Ooooooh! No you didn’t! Yeah…I did. And don’t think I haven’t been there. I have 12 whole credits and I’ve been through the program on that one. We’ve been bombarded with images of white women our whole lives. It was rare to see yourself on TV much less in a movie theatre when I was growing up so the long term damage is quite extensive. Everywhere you turned you were constantly reminded of how beautiful white women were. And you? Well, since you weren’t white and yours wasn’t the face you saw on TV or the big screen – you had to be the opposite; the antithesis of beauty if you will.
We had so few choices growing up. Everything was geared towards whites. Honestly? I’m amazed that we actually made it through all those years of totally being ignored, scorned (yet secretly adored). But then again that's what we did and have continued to do to this very day. We get by- we do what we have to do and we keep it moving. Be that as it may, this hair thing has really put one over on us. What I deem to be the issue of our hair and why we want it to be straight is the 800lb elephant in the room. And no one wants to actively address it. We make jokes, glazing over a mountain of unconscious self-hatred and loathing. Don't get me wrong, I’m grateful for the changes and progress we’ve made but damn...What the hell??? Somebody ought to start raising money for research. Kathy Hughes? Suzanne DePasse?? Debbie Allen? Maybe Chris Rock himself could be an anonymous financial backer. One can only hope...
Back in the day Barbie’s little sister (or was it cousin?) Skipper was as close as you could get to having a black doll. Skipper had that California tan thang going on… you know. AnyHOO… we grew up with the same mentality that our parents grew up with…If you were light skinned with “good” hair you got more. And so it goes. From that day to this many of us still believe it. We may not want to believe it, but for most of us – it’s our truth. That’s why Chris Rock’s movie hit so close to home. There were black women who were actually mad that he revealed our “secrets”. No- he didn’t reveal any secrets, he just lifted the veil and showed us our collective selves (only this time we had no choice but to look).
Yeah, we laughed, chuckled, snickered even but I know I wasn't the only black woman who left the theatre thinking..."Oh my god...I am so embarrassed by this." We looked like a bunch of desperate, lost souls just looking for the next woman with long hair to cut hers off so we could sew it onto our own heads. No matter the price. Really?? It's as if we don't give a damn about our real hair and will do anything to cover it up- never letting it see the light of day. It's little wonder that it doesn't grow the way it should. We don't take care if it and we don't love it. Have you ever known much of anything to flourish in those kinds of conditions? Right.
Now-a-days we say things like “A black woman has the right to wear her hair any way that she wants.” And to that I say “To what end?” We weave because we don’t feel beautiful unless our hair is long and flowing. It’s sad to see. Each track takes us further and further away from our authentic, beautiful selves. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had braid extensions but had never worn a weave until last year. I had one for 2 months. I good friend of mine kept encouraging me to get one and so did my hairdresser. So, I caved and got one. It was a real mistake. It was a good thing that it was curly hair instead of straight because I ended up having to cut the tracks at the base of my hairline (including my own hair) because it was too tight. It was sewn in so tight that I couldn’t rest my head on my pillow nor could I fully turn my head to the right or the left (so it hindered me while driving). I had a throbbing headache for the first 2 weeks until finally I had had quite enough. It was 3:20 am and I couldn’t stand it anymore. With tears in my eyes, I had my roommate clip the bottom track- what a relief.
I resolved myself that my own hair would grow back in time. During the remainder of the two months- the curly weave covered over a multitude of “track sins”. It was so tight that I had little bumps at the base of my neck, all in the name of having some long curly hair. It was really torture. And I don’t want to even get into not being able to thoroughly wash my hair and scalp. Double yuck. And let's just be honest- you know (if you have a weave right now) that it's been a minute since your scalp has seen the light of day. Girl you need to quit- your scalp is crying out for a good scrape. Get the gunk off your scalp girl! My head was a freaking tangled, trackie mess up under all those flowing, Indian Remy curls. Like the roots of so many banyan trees, a big, fat lie. Not to mention that some poor retched soul may have donated it to a temple. I'm grateful her blessing (and the blessings of all those other Indian women) is not dependent on what happens to the hair after it's donated at the temple. That would be tragic indeed- wouldn't you agree? They give their hair to receive a blessing. How much did you pay for yours? Hmmm...
Back to my weave ordeal...once I had it taken out, I vowed never to get another weave. It’s too high of a price to pay. My hair does not, nor has it ever been, nor will it ever be the texture of the human hair that I bought to have weaved onto my head. Again, one big, fat lie. When you look at the images of black women today- you’d be hard pressed to find one who doesn’t have a perm, a weave or both. Tackling the perm issue is definitely something we have to contend with as well. Again…we want the hair to be bone straight- no naps or beady-beads for us! The kitchen needs to be tamed, all edges super smooth. And we’re willing to slather on gobs of extremely strong chemicals to coax our precious strands into dead, lifeless, straw that easily breaks off and has curls that fall at the first sign of a hint of water. Not to mention that our lives become high jacked by our hair once it’s permed/relaxed. Whole activities are cut out of the black woman’s experience because they involve water and she is not about to get her hair wet. We do it to ouselves and to what end I ask? Honestly- we don't feel pretty unless our hair is straight and flowing, blowing in the wind. If this is the normal texture of your hair then more power to you. If it is not, maybe, just maybe, you should join the grass roots campaign to save your strands then consider some healthy hair alternatives.
After a little soul searching I decided to go natural. It wasn't really a hard decision to make. I believe the hardest part of going the natural route for most black women is getting past what all the "other" people in her life say and think about natural hair. Again...the indoctrination runs deep and counter to all things natural when it comes to hair. I kid you not, when I announced that I was even thinking about locking my hair, I was met with comments like "Why do you want to do that?" and "Oh hell no, I wouldn't do that to my hair!" "Beauty is on the inside" I retorted. And quick as a flash my aunt replied "That's right. Beauty is on the inside and pretty is on the outside and you gettin' ready to get ridda all uh yours!" We laughed until we nearly cried on that one. I have to admit I come by my wit honestly as it runs in the family.
My second sister who now has her hair locked admitted that she wore a wig during the "ugly" phase of locking her hair. My eldest sister used words like pickaninny when she described how some people looked with their hair locked. Harkening all the way back to slavery times, she unearthed the term "pickaninny" to describe showing and growing our own natural hair. It's a well know fact in the black community that you'll look more African than not when you decide to lock.
Afrocentricity has always been frowned upon in this country. It's as if black people that wear their hair in natural styles are plotting against the governent or planning some sinister act of violence or are uneducated (because why else would they wear their hair like that?). It's a shame on so many levels. I read somewhere that the first law suit involving natural hair style discrimination was back in the 80's. The eighties. Unbelievable. All I can say is thank you to the sister who had to wage that war. Thankfully we are making strides in the natural hair arena.
I recently attended the Baltimore Natural Hair Expo. It was so awesome to see so many people (men, women and children) with natural hair styles. So beautiful. So Natural. I reveled in the glory of it all- like a flower soaking up the noon day sun. Only our hair can do that- I thought. How wonderful is that? How special and unique is that? Our hair is like an endangered species that must be guarded and protected. But...only we can do it. This isn't about opening a museum to showcase Jazz- the original American art form or saving the quilts made by the women of Gee's Bend, sending them on tours around the world. This is about us preserving, protecting and showcasing our own artform. Something that is as close to us as the very breath we exhale from our bodies.
No one can do this for us...only we can save ourselves on this one. Until we can accept ourselves, we'll never be accepted and our seat at the table will remain empty. So, stop hiding behind that weave girl. Come forth and be your big, bold, beautiful self.
Be Well
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